


How Sweet It Is

by devoosha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Always Fluff From Me, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 12:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20082208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devoosha/pseuds/devoosha
Summary: Who would have thought helping Shiro plan his wedding would lead Keith to the boy of his dreams?  Too bad he's too socially awkward to hit on said boy.





	How Sweet It Is

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to not fall into doing a Cafe/Bakery AU, but I failed. I stumbled across this half-finished WIP when cleaning out files and didn't even remember starting it. But I thought it was cute, finished it, and present it to you! Hope you enjoy some cute fluff!

**How Sweet It Is**

Keith squinted his teary eyes as he hurried up the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched up to his ears. The February wind whipped through the streets of the city in the gray light of early afternoon, stinging his cheeks into a brilliant scarlet. Cars rushed by, as gray and colorless as the city (gray even though they were actually different colors), adding their grit and grime to the slushy and dirty snow that was the last remnants of the storm two days ago. 

The large coat Shiro insisted he wear on this errand did nothing to ward off the bone chilling wind. It caught at him and found it’s way into every space it could worm into. His hat, his scarf, the gloves – none of it worked. He may as well be naked for all the good his supposedly protective outer gear did. What he wouldn’t give to be in one of those gray cars right now, heat cranked to full, instead of walking like some holdover from the seventeenth century.

Not that he could afford a car in the city. Not on what he made at the bookstore. Assistant Manager might sound impressive, but a small independent bookstore didn’t pay much. He only had that title because he had been there longer than the other three employees. He got the job part-time in high school and kept it through college because it was something easy and he liked the discount.

He stopped, waiting for the light to change and allow the few pedestrians huddled on the corner to cross the street. Everyone seemed wrapped in their own little bubble, mainly because they were all like Keith, hunched into little balls to conserve as much body heat as possible. The cold kept many people either inside or in their cars. Only a few hardy (or stupid, like Keith) souls bothered to venture out into the shitty post-winter storm weather. 

Keith would much rather be huddled on his couch with his latest discounted book purchase, mug of hot chocolate (spiked with Baileys) in one hand. Alas, he had agreed to help Shiro plan the wedding. That was the stupidest thing he had ever done, he swore to god. Shiro panicked at the beginning of planning and Keith, being the amazing younger brother-slash-roommate he was, offered his help in a desperate move to get Shiro to calm the fuck down.

It worked, but Keith now found himself knee deep in color choices, invitations, flowers, and the myriad of other things involved in planning a big gala wedding befitting the social status of his brother and fiancé – two of the most beloved and prestigious professors at the local university. Adam, the fiancé, was currently doing a teaching exchange semester abroad in Germany. Why Adam thought it was a good idea to do that now, of all times, was something Keith could not comprehend. Granted, Adam agreed to the exchange months before Shiro proposed, but still. Keith thought he could have either postponed it, or Shiro could have picked a date later in the year after Adam came home.

Adam and Shiro, however, had their hearts set on a June wedding. Keith, should he ever walk down the same path someday (he doubted it), would prefer fall. October. Out in the country where the fall colors would provide an amazing backdrop for the photos of his true love and him. He snorted, stepping off the curb to cross the street. That was never going to happen. He was too much of a loner and introvert to find anyone willing to put up with him.

With Adam gone, many of the wedding errands fell into his lap. He was a college graduate who worked part-time at a bookstore while he attempted to get his photography business off the ground. Sure, he got a few gigs from time to time, but the end of February wasn’t exactly a hot time for weddings or engagement shoots. Hence, there was a lot of free time on his hands. Free time that Shiro happily filled with things to do. Shiro was a busy man. He taught all day. It was left to Keith to deliver down payments, pick up items, check on venues and meet with vendors. It felt nice that Shiro (and Adam) trusted him with such tasks, but it also forced the shy young man to jump out of his comfort zone and interact with strangers. 

This was why Keith was out on this freezing cold and gray day, braving the raw wind and the jostle of equally frozen strangers. Shiro called that morning in a panic, frantic that he forgot he had ordered a taste sampler from a local bakery in order for him and Keith to taste test a possible venue for the wedding cake.

“KEITH!” Shiro shouted at him over the phone.

Keith yanked the phone from his ear with a wince. “What the fuck, Shiro?”

“I need you to do something for me!”

Keith let out a long-suffering sigh, cautiously moving the phone an inch closer to his ear. Shiro’s voice was loud enough that Keith checked to see if he accidentally hit the speaker option. He hadn’t. “Now what?”

“The Lion’s Pride called to remind me that my sampler was ready!”

“Lion’s Pride,” Keith repeated slowly, trying to tug out the name from the pile of company names in his head. Shiro and he had found what seemed to be thousands of wedding merchants over the past month. 

“That new bakery. The one near your bookstore.”

A flicker of memory flashed through Keith’s mind. He walked past the bakery on the way to and from work. It opened before Thanksgiving or around there – Keith wasn’t too sure. It wasn’t as if he cared or paid attention to anything on that walk. Normally he kept his head down as he listened to his playlist. One day he noticed a new and mouth-watering smell permeating the air on that particular block, enough to make him pause and note the name of the bakery, but nothing else. He wasn’t one to spend his money on baked goods no matter how much he loved them. He had bills to pay.

The bakery, however, was a cute place from what he could see. The window was painted with the name “Lion’s Pride”, along with a stylized lion logo, so it was difficult to see inside. Keith thought it was probably a better idea to make the name smaller and allow passerby to see inside and possibly entice customers in, but the tantalizing odor was enough for that. There was a space in front of the bakery too, a small bit of sidewalk real estate that Keith assumed the owner might use in nicer weather for a few tables.

Keith remembered the bakery when they began planning after Shiro proposed to Adam on Christmas day (how cliché, Keith thought). Two weeks later, Adam was on a plane bound for Germany. Immediately after that, Shiro came home with an enormous binder and a dozen planning books bought at Keith’s bookstore with Keith’s discount. The first task was to narrow down vendors for each category, which, in their medium sized city, didn’t take as much time as Keith expected. When the subject of cake came up, Keith mentioned Lion’s Pride - mainly because it was the only bakery he had ever seen in their area of town.

The website was cute. Well-designed to Keith, who had minored in graphic design in college. Perfectly elegant in it’s simplicity, with enough of a whimsical design to make it memorable. Easily navigable too, which Keith knew was a problem many small business websites had. Shiro made the call the previous week and spoke to the owner, who informed him that if Shiro would like, he could provide a box of cupcakes in various flavors so Shiro and his partner could taste test the types of cakes and frostings the bakery provided. After a brief consultation with Keith, Shiro placed the order to pick up on Wednesday.

Shiro forgot.

At least until he had the reminder call that morning.

After the pause of silence, Shiro asked in an agitated voice, “Can you pick the cupcakes up? Please? I’m right between classes right now and they close before I’m out for the day.”

“Why’d you order them for today then?”

“I knew you weren’t working,” Shiro admitted, his voice shifting into an apologetic tone.

“What if I had other plans?”

Shiro’s silence spoke volumes to Keith, who gritted his teeth in irritation. Of course he didn’t have plans.

“Anyway,” Shiro finally said after a long and pregnant pause, “could you please run down to the bakery and pick them up?”

“Shiro, do you realize it’s below freezing right now?”

“Bundle up. Put a hat on? Pretty please? We get to eat cupcakes?” Shiro tried to coax.

Keith sighed, attempting to convey all his disappointment in his brother with it. “Fine.”

“You’re the best brother that ever was!”

“I know,” Keith deadpanned.

Now that Keith had agreed, Shiro was happy. “They’re already paid for,” he said cheerily. “Just ask for Hunk and give him my name.”

“Hunk?”

“Well, yeah. The owner I spoke to. He seemed really nice and friendly. You have no reason to be afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid, Shiro,” he growled between his suddenly clenching teeth.

“I know, I know. I just meant that you shouldn’t worry. It’ll be fine. Pop in, get the order, pop out and head home. Easy peasy.”

“I already said I’d go. Get off the phone so I can.”

“Thank you, lil’ brother! Love you!”

Keith merely grunted into the phone before tapping the end call button. 

Now here he was, crossing the last street to put him onto the block where the bakery was. A delicious odor, vanilla scented today, filled the cold air hinting at warmth and comfort. Warmth and comfort that Keith desperately needed right now. Warmth and comfort he could have enjoyed at home, he thought with a grimace.

A little bell jangled as he pushed open the door, giving it a little bit more of a nudge than he normally would. It was stuck for a moment, and he nearly stumbled as it suddenly gave way, bringing him inside with a cold gust of wind. He looked around to apologize, but saw no one. Odd.

“Just a minute!”

The musical voice calling from somewhere beyond the door behind the counter gave Keith pause. It was. A lovely voice? A rich timbre that made his mouth go dry. Why would a voice do that to him? An angelic voice shouldn’t have that sort of effect on him.

The wait was more than a minute, but Keith didn’t mind. His extremities were starting to unfreeze, it felt, in the warmth and homey atmosphere of the bakery. He appreciated the little café, for that’s what it actually looked like. Soft and soothing lavender walls, simple wrought iron tables and chairs – just a few to provide seating, but not so many that it felt crowded. A few simple paintings hung on the walls with tags attached listing a name and price. Keith surmised they might be local artists allowed to sell their work. He had a thought that if he was still in college, he wouldn’t mind doing homework here, settled at that corner table between the large potted plants and a cup of coffee in front of him, as well as one of the mouth-watering pastries he could see in the display case.

His bemused thoughts were dashed with the loud crash of metal against a hard surface and a shout of “Mierda!” which brought Keith’s hand up to cover his mouth in order to hold back a laugh.

“Everything ok?” he yelled, loosening his scarf a little. The café was quite warm.

A little laugh – oh why did that sound so merry? – and a shout back, “I’m ok! I’m just a klutz!”

Keith smiled and stepped up to the display case to get a closer look at the pastries. There wasn’t a large variety, but everything behind the sparkling glass looked delicious. There were four types of cookies - large ones as big as his hand, and looked to be the type he liked; soft and chewy. The cupcakes were cheerfully decorated with fondant flowers dusted with edible glitter and made Keith look forward to the cupcake sampler he was here to pick up. There were dessert bars, mini pies, mini cakes, chocolate covered fruits, and a few things Keith didn’t recognize right away in spite of the hand-printed signs in front of each selection. 

He had just decided to buy a couple of the cookies when the door behind the counter swung open, pushed from the other side by the hip of a young man with a tray. To say Keith was surprised would be an understatement. He was not expecting this mess to match the beautiful voice he heard from the back.

With a small huff, the man turned to face Keith, pulling a bright smile onto his face – a customer service smile – that seemed to falter when he met Keith’s eyes. Keith wondered if the boy saw his surprise or something else, because he seemed to deflate – his shoulders hunched as he stepped forward to put the tray, which Keith saw contained a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, on the counter. 

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the boy mumbled, directing the comment toward the cookies as he pulled off the bulky oven mitts. Keith made a noise in response and stepped back to wait patiently. He could be patient, because he wanted to check out this apparent disaster.

A green apron covered the boy’s entire body, it seemed, and it was covered in batter and flour. Dots of the same flour and batter covered his face and arms like freckles, though Keith could see natural freckles on the flushed cheeks, even though his skin was a light brown shade. Since Keith had heard him swear in Spanish, he assumed he might be Hispanic. 

It was the hair, though, that nearly sent Keith into a rush of giggles. It looked as if the young man had been constantly running his hands through it. It was a mess, sticking straight up in places and dusted with flour throughout the brown locks. What appeared to be a little girl’s plastic barrettes – three bright pink butterflies – were holding his bangs back.

It only took a few minutes for the young man to slide the back door of the display case open, slip on some plastic disposable gloves, and transfer the new cookies to the display tray, but it gave Keith enough time to see that while at first glance he looked like a walking disaster, he was actually cute. Really cute. Wash the face of the detritus of baking, take off the apron, and fix the hair, he’d actually be gorgeous. Keith’s type too, when Keith pictured a type. Lean and lanky, beautiful eyes (not that the boy had looked him in the eyes again), that brief but bright smile. If only Keith had the balls to hit on him. But Keith swore his gaydar was broken – he never could tell. And even if the boy was wearing a pride shirt that said “I AM GAY!” Keith still wouldn’t be able to use a pick up line or his non-existent charm to try to get this guys number. Look up the antonym for ‘smooth’ and one would see a picture of Keith.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said finally, tossing the oven mitts on the empty tray and directing that dazzling smile at Keith. 

Keith panicked inside and forgot his words for a moment. “S’ok,” he mumbled.

“How can I help you?”

How could this guy calmly ask that while covered in batter and flour and looking like he just walked through a wind tunnel? Keith was particularly distracted by a dollop of what looked like pink frosting on the guy’s chin that Keith wanted nothing more than to kiss off. Shit, he didn’t need this.

“Um,” he racked his brain. Shiro. Wedding. Cupcakes. “Are you Hunk?” thinking that while this guy was good-looking, he wouldn’t necessarily call him hunky. Hunk conjured up an image of someone muscular.

A small huff of a laugh. “No, I’m Lance. Hunk isn’t here right now. I help him out sometimes and that poor soul left me alone and in charge for reasons I still can’t fathom. As you can see,” he said, gesturing to himself with a wry smile, “I’m not necessarily to be trusted alone in a bakeshop.”

Keith had to laugh, “Uh, ok. I’m supposed to ask for Hunk. You know when he’ll be back?”

“Not for awhile,” Lance said. “Is there anything…” then he seemed to remember something. “Are you…” he paused, then searched near the cash regsiter. “Shiro?” he asked, glancing up from a note taped to the counter.

Keith shook his head. “No, Keith. Shiro asked me to pick up a sampler, though.”

“Ah yeah, now I remember. Hunk mentioned that Shiro couldn’t make it and would send you. Give me a minute, please? Hunk left the box in the back.”

Keith merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak real words again. With another flash of a smile, Lance picked up the tray and disappeared into the back by kicking open the swing door. After a minute he returned carrying a medium sized bakery box and set it gently on the counter in the clear space by the register and slid it toward Keith.

“Hunk said Shiro already paid, so you’re all set,” he said cheerily, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Keith want to melt in them. 

“Thanks,” he said, his voice rough from the cold (and probably his gay panic).

“Can I get you anything else?” Lance asked politely.

Keith started to shake his head, then hesitated. Those cookies did look good and he had thought about grabbing a couple. Plus the transaction would give him a few more minutes of gazing at the messy and gorgeous Lance.

“Uh. Actually. Can I get a couple of those cookies? The chocolate chip you just put out?”

“Sure! Rest assured that I,” and here Lance placed his hand over his chest, “didn’t make them. Hunk mixed them this morning and I only had to bake them. Fortunately you came in time for the unburned batch!” The wink Lance gave him stuttered his heart for a moment as Lance reached for disposible gloves and a wax square of paper. 

Keith laughed again, though his heart was thumping now. Was the guy flirting with him? No, couldn’t be. Lance bagged two of the cookies and looked up at Keith, “Just two?” and when Keith nodded he put the bag on top of the cupcake box. “Anything else? Maybe something warm to drink? It’s pretty cold out and I wouldn’t mind giving you something to warm you up.”

The accompanying smile when Lance said that nearly stopped Keith’s heart this time – a heart that felt like it crawled up his throat to lodge itself there. “Um,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Uh, it would probably be too much to carry.”

Lance pursed his lips and looked down at the bulky cupcake box. “Yeah I guess you’ll have your hands full of this. We do have tables if you wanna hang out and drink,” he suggested.

Suddenly that sounded like the best idea Keith had ever heard in his life. Sit in this warm, cozy, heavenly smelling bakery and watch Lance work? He didn’t even care what he got to drink. The rest sounded perfect as opposed to going back out into that gray and freezing world on the other side of the door.

“That sounds. Nice,” Keith replied. Lance gestured to the menu board behind him, a chalkboard with the specials written in a slopey handwriting that was hard to decipher. “Um. What’s good?”

“In spite of my lack of baking skills, I do make a killer hot chocolate,” Lance said modestly.

“I’ll take that.”

“Sure! I’ll bring it out in a jiffy!”

Lance again disappeared into the kitchen and Keith stood there trying to decide whether or not to give Lance his number. He had never done anything like that before. Never had the guts to do that. It seemed like Lance was flirting a little with him. Or he could just be friendly. Keith was a customer, so it was probably just a customer service thing.

His text alert went off and he scrambled through his pockets trying to remember which one he had put his phone. Just Shiro, he thought as he opened it.

_**Shiro**: Did you get the cupcakes???_

**Keith**: Yeah. I’m still at the bakery.

_**Shiro**: Why?_

**Keith**: Ordered hot chocolate

_**Shiro**: Why?_

**Keith**: Why? It’s freezing out. I need warmth. 

**Keith**: BTW, I hate u

_**Shiro**: Why?_

**Keith**: Is that the only word you know?

_**Shiro**: No_

**Keith**: The baker is beautiful and I’m in a gay panic

_**Shiro**: He did sound cute on the phone_

**Keith**: OMG that isn’t a thing

**Keith**: it’s not Hunk

**Keith**: it’s some guy named Lance

_**Shiro**: Ask him out_

**Keith**: I can’t do that

_**Shiro**: why?_

**Keith**: he’s gorgeous and I’m me

_**Shiro**: if you don’t, I will_

**Keith**: you’re engaged

_**Shiro**: not ask him for ME idiot. I’ll give him your #_

**Keith**: he’s probably not even into guys

_**Shiro**: Never know_

**Keith**: shut up, he’s coming back

_**Shiro**: ASK HIM_

Keith ignored the last text and shoved his phone in his coat pocket. Lance pushed the door open carefully, cradling a steaming mug in his hands. Keith saw it was loaded with whipped cream on top and had been dusted with chocolate shavings and cinnamon. How did this guy know he liked it like that?

With the cup placed carefully in front of Keith, Lance turned to the register and rang up the items. “That will be four dollars,” he said, looking up at Keith.

Keith paused as he opened his wallet, giving a blank look at Lance. “Four? That seems pretty low,” he said, glancing at the display case. “The cookies are two dollars each.”

Lance’s head bobbed in a nod. “Yep. Drink’s on me.”

“I-I can’t accept that,” Keith protested.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance said, another wink with the addition of finger guns which shot straight through Keith’s heart. “Consider it my congratulations.”

“Congratulations?”

“Yeah. On your wedding.”

Keith blinked a few times. Lance’s smile slowed his brain cells down, so it took him a moment to figure out what he meant. Shit. Lance thought he was one of the grooms. He definitely wasn’t flirting with him. Damn. “Oh. Um. Yeah. Thanks?”

A little furrow appeared between Lance’s eyebrows.. 

“I mean. Uh,” Keith stuttered out. Gah, why was this so hard? “Shiro’s my brother. I’m just helping him out.”

“Ahh,” Lance said, the clouds in his expression cleared and his full sunshine smile returned. “I see. Good.”

Good? What did that mean? “So I can pay for the hot chocolate.”

Lance waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, knocking over the little cup holding the pens next to the register. He dove for them, scrambling his hands in all directions which only succeeded in scattering them even more. Keith retrieved the ones that flew to the floor and helped Lance, whose cheeks were now bright red – an interesting contrast to the pale dough and white flour still stuck there. “I’m such a klutz,” he muttered with a sigh. “Seriously, though, dude. On the house.” He gestured to the hot chocolate that sat there unharmed.

“That’s nice of you,” Keith said, then handed over the cash for the cookies, putting the change in the little tip jar on the counter. 

Lance patted the box of cupcakes. “These can hang here until you’re ready to leave,” he offered. “That way you don’t have to crowd your table.”

“Thanks,” Keith said, taking the bag of cookies and the mug of hot chocolate from Lance. He turned to make his way to the table, slowly so as not to spill the drink which was full to the brim. He placed the drink on the table and draped the insanely huge coat over the chair he chose. He sat so that he was situated with his back to the window (it was gray out with nothing to see…not because he wanted to watch Lance) and contemplated the drink. There was no way he could get the first sip without burying his face into the whipped cream. He decided to dig into the cookies first.

This is what ambrosia must have tasted like to the Olympian Gods, he thought, slowly chewing the first bite. He couldn’t remember ever tasting a cookie this good. He felt his eyes slip to half-closed and let out a pleased hum. It was probably dangerous of him to try this cookie here, when there was a whole tray left of them in the display case. 

Lance busied himself behind the counter, with what Keith couldn’t see out of the corner of his eye. He pulled out his phone to scroll through his social medias while he ate, but he actually used that as a way to watch Lance without being obvious. The boy still hadn’t cleaned himself off and his hair was still a mess, but Keith thought he was totally adorable. 

**Keith**: If these cookies are any indication those cupcakes will melt you

_**Shiro**: That good huh?_

**Keith**: Heavenly

_**Shiro**: Ask him out yet?_

**Keith**: I hate u, don’t forget

Lance ducked in the back for a moment and came back with a mop to clean up the snow Keith dragged in. Keith felt guilty and almost offered to clean it up himself, but Lance didn’t seem to mind. He was singing something in Spanish under his breath, a little peppy love song, and appeared to be happily performing this chore. He glanced a few times at Keith with a smile, but didn’t speak.

Keith finally attempted his hot chocolate. He felt the whipped cream spread over his upper lip and nose, but when the hot liquid finally passed his lips he almost groaned at the taste. Perfection. If the cookies were the ambrosia, this was the nectar of the Gods. Why had he never stopped here before? 

“Do you work around here?”

Lance’s voice startled him and he almost choked on his sip. “Huh?” he said, glancing up to see Lance near his table, mop still in hand, eyeing him with an amused look.

“You’ve got a little whipped cream,” Lance said, pointing to his own nose, throwing out another of those dazzling smiles. “There…”

“Thanks,” Keith mumbled, snatching a napkin and rubbing roughly at his face. Ugh, way to be graceless, Keith, you idiot.

“So…” Lance continued, swirling the mop a little by his feet. “I asked if you work around here? I think I’ve seen you walk by before. Unless your doppelganger lives in the same city as you, which would be really freaky.”

“Doppelganger…”

“Your lookalike.”

“No. I mean, I know what you meant. Uh. Yeah. I work at the bookstore on the next block.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you there.”

“Only part time.”

“Ah. Are you a student?”

Keith shook his head, his hands wrapping around the warm mug of chocolate to steady his nerves. “I was. I graduated a year ago.”

“Oh nice! I’m a grad student. In education.”

“Not culinary arts?” Keith couldn’t believe he made a joke. A good one, too, if Lance’s laugh was any indication.

“No. Most definitely not.” He looked down at himself. “I don’t think I’d have lasted past the first semester if I tried that. I’m much better with kids.”

“I would hope so,” Keith replied, finally able to muster a shy smile.

Lance rested both hands on top of the mop handle and placed his chin on them as he returned Keith’s smile. “So what did you major in? Bookstores?”

“No. Um, actually photography.”

“Really?” Lance asked, his flour-dusted eyebrows raising. 

“Yeah. I kind of have my own business.”

“How do you ‘kind of’ have one?”

“I mean, I have one. I just. I’m starting out, so I haven’t had a lot of jobs yet. I do a little web design and graphic design too, but photography gigs are hard to come at the moment.” He gestured to the window and toward the gray cityscape outside. “Not many weddings right now.”

Lance snorted. “That’s true. Hunk has a ton of cakes lined up starting in April, but he’s not too busy with that now. At least birthdays are all year.”

Keith nodded. “I get the occasional family session, and I had a lot over the holidays, but for now I’m kinda up in the air.”

Lance straightened and actually snapped his fingers. “I have an idea. Hunk sells local artwork,” he said, pointing at the wall of paintings. “You should talk to him about maybe selling some of your photos. I mean, if you take, like, nature pictures or stuff like that.”

Keith blinked a few times, his hands squeezing the mug tighter. It sounded like a good idea and a way to advertise himself, and he knew he needed to do things like this to get the business off the ground, but he also knew how he was about talking to people he didn’t know and putting himself out there.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, with a little hesitancy. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

Lance waved a hand airily. “Oh it’s not a bother at all. I’ll talk to Hunk if you want.”

Keith was surprised at Lance’s helpfulness. Lance didn’t know him, so to offer his help was something Keith never expected. He dumbly nodded. “That. That would be great. It’s really nice of you.”

“Not a problem, my man!” Lance said, shooting him another wink and only one finger gun this time, as his other hand still held the mop handle. Leaving Keith with flaming cheeks, Lance twirled and headed toward the kitchen, leaving a ghost of his laugh behind him as the door swung shut.

Keith blinked a few more times, then took another sip of the hot chocolate and licked the whip cream off his upper lip. He unlocked his phone to read the messages that kept dinging during his brief talk with Lance.

_**Shiro**: Did you ask him?_

_**Shiro**: Did you ask him_

_**Shiro**: KEITH DID YOU AKS HIM?_

_**Shiro**: Did you ask him?_

_**Shiro**: You need a date for teh wedding_

_**Shiro**: Ask him to go to the wedding wit u_

_**Shiro**: Keith answer me_

_**Shiro**: I can’t tkae the suapense_

_**Shiro**: don’t hate meeeeeeeee_

_**Shiro**: srsly_

_**Shiro**: ask him_

**Keith**: ur the most annoying brother ever

_**Shiro**: u took so long. Were u making out with him?_

**Keith**: NO

_**Shiro**: y not?_

**Keith**: Have I told u I hate u?

_**Shiro**: I’m just looking out for u_

_**Shiro**: I love u and want u to be happy_

**Keith**: He won’t be interested in me. 

_**Shiro**: u don’t kow that_

He shut off his phone as Lance came back into the main part of the bakery, only now wearing a flustered look on his clean face. His hair had been somewhat tamed, and while his apron was still a mess, the flour had been scrubbed from his face. He sent Keith a pouty look, his eyes full of disappointment. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me I looked like a walking disaster?”

Keith’s mouth dropped open. He had no idea what to say. 

“And that I had these in my hair!” Lance added, holding up a hand with the pink barettes balanced on his palm.

Keith’s mouth snapped closed, mostly to bite back the laugh he felt bubble up in him.

“It’s not funny,” Lance said. “I can’t make a good impression looking like I did.” With that, he slipped easily back to his grin, gave Keith another wink, then busied himself with something behind the counter.

Keith’s heart couldn’t make up its’ mind whether to merely stop or race. It bounced between the two for a minute before it decided to race away. Which obviously was the cause of all the blood rushing to his face, in spite of him sternly telling himself that Lance did not direct that at him. 

Keith finished his drink in confused silence. He tried not to look at Lance again – he didn’t want Lance to think he was creepy, though he doubted that he’d ever see the boy again. Now that he was slightly cleaned up he went from cute to gorgeous. Keith, of course, sent him a few glances, drinking in the sight of Lance as he was drinking the nectar made by those beautiful hands. 

He shook himself a little. There was no way that A: a beautiful boy like that wasn’t already taken. And B: that he’d ever be interested in Keith. Keith was a moody-looking introvert who could barely speak full sentences. This ray of sunshine didn’t need an emo in his life. He was probably dating some bubbly blonde girl whose smile matched his own.

After a brief contemplation about getting another hot chocolate (buying it this time), Keith sipped the last of the drink and put the mug down. Lance was still occupied with something at the counter and Keith was unsure what he should do with the mug. He felt bad leaving it at the table – he wasn’t a messy person. With a sigh, he stood up, shrugged on his coat and pocketed his phone, ignoring the five new messages from Shiro.

His movement drew Lance’s eyes, and the boy watched him intently, making Keith feel incredibly awkward as he buttoned his coat and took up the mug in his hands. “You can leave it on the table,” Lance spoke up.

“Oh. Uh. No, it’s ok. I don’t mind,” he mumbled and crossed the café to the counter to place the mug next to the cupcake box. “Thanks again for the drink. It helped a lot.”

“My pleasure,” Lance said, giving him that heart-stabbing smile again. 

“It was probably the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”

“Well now I’m even more pleased I made it for you.”

That flustered Keith, who was not used to anyone flirting with him, even though he knew it wasn’t real flirting on Lance’s part. He probably did this with all customers to make them feel special. He did, however, manage a small smile.

“And here,” Lance said, holding out his hand with a small card held between his first two fingers.

“What’s this?”

“Lion’s Pride’s business card.”

“I think Shiro already has one.”

Lance shrugged. “This one’s for you. So you don’t forget us.”

As if that were a possibility. Keith knew there was no way he’d forget this beautiful angel.

“Thanks,” he replied as he shoved the card into the pocket holding his phone.

“Again, my pleasure,” Lance said with yet another wink. “Have a great rest of your day Keith. Don’t forget to contact Hunk about putting your photos here.”

“I won’t,” Keith promised as he pulled on his gloves and pulled the box of cupcakes toward himself. “Bye.”

Lance waved his fingers at him and Keith turned to leave, a heavy feeling falling over him as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. The feeling had nothing to do with the sharp wind that immediately stung his face. It didn’t even have to do with the cold that seeped through his outerwear and clothing to chase away all the warmth he had soaked up in the café. He missed an opportunity. Damn his shyness. He’d probably never see Lance again, so why didn’t he ask for his number? God, he was such an idiot. So what if Lance turned him down? At least he would have tried.

These heavy thoughts plagued him the whole freezing way home. Shiro was going to bother him about it tonight, he just knew. He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t Shiro understand that Keith knew what a backwards idiot he was? Shiro knew Keith had gone out on a grand total of three disastrous dates – two of them blind ones set up for him by his brother and future brother-in-law. Fuck. 

He decided by the time he got home that he was just going to get himself a cat or twelve and go live as a hermit in some mountain cave (that had wi-fi of course), all alone and isolated from the world. He unlocked the door and entered the warmer apartment, breathing in the familiar smell of home that was nothing as tantalizing as some bakery staffed by the cutest boy he had ever seen.

Keith gently placed the box down on the counter and pulled off his gloves, also leaving them on the counter in order to annoy Shiro. In fact, Keith left most of his outer garments around in places he knew would annoy Shiro. Shiro deserved it. He was the one that forced Keith out of the safety of his home only to meet the man of his dreams and completely fail at being human.

Keith ignored the coat hooks and opted to toss the huge coat on Shiro’s chair at the table in the kitchen. He got halfway to the fridge to dig out something unhealthy to indulge in when he remembered his phone was still in the pocket, so he spun on his stockinged feet and went to fetch it.

The card Lance had handed to him fell on the floor as he pulled out his phone. He contemplated leaving it on the floor to further annoy Shiro, but Keith did want to keep it, so he bent down to pick it up. It had fallen on it’s front face and Keith noticed there was writing on the back. He quickly straightened.

_“You’re pretty cute! If you want, feel free to text me. Unless you have a boy/girlfriend of course ;)”_

Keith stared at the writing. At the bottom of the card Lance had written his name, a heart, and his phone number. His heart did that thing where it couldn’t decide to stop or race. It ended up racing again. Lance thought he was cute? And wanted Keith to text him? Holy shit!

Should he? He could hear both Shiro and Adam screaming at him in his head to text the boy already? Like yesterday! But Keith had never done that before and he had no idea what to say. His hands were shaking as he unlocked his phone and went to his contacts and entered in Lance’s number under the name ‘Cute Bakery Boy’. 

He set the card on the table with his shaking hands as he sank into Shiro’s chair. Cradling the phone as if it were the most precious object in the world, he set up a new text message and hovered his thumbs over the letters on the screen. Taking a deep breath he finally tapped in a message.

**Keith**: Hey. This is Keith.

**Cute Bakery Boy:** I’m sooooooooo glad you texted me ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at devooshawrites on Tumblr!


End file.
